


Midnight

by SomnificSheep



Series: Every Day I'm Tumblin' [14]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Anxiety, F/M, Feelings, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-24
Updated: 2020-06-24
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:06:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24898147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SomnificSheep/pseuds/SomnificSheep
Summary: Midnight has always been the hour for madness, and this midnight is no different.
Relationships: Haruno Sakura/Shiranui Genma
Series: Every Day I'm Tumblin' [14]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1441588
Comments: 8
Kudos: 31





	Midnight

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks pahdme for the prompt of "would you hate me" over on Tumblr ❤

Midnight has always been the hour for madness, and this midnight is no different. It arrives to a violent crack of thunder, the storm engulfing Konoha rattling windows and wills as Genma grips the kitchen counter. The night is half over and he himself is one hundred percent finished with the way every gust of wind has him trembling, the way every shadow sweeping across the floor is someone else come to take him down.

If there’s one thing he truly hates, it’s the way he’s been conditioned to respond to everything as a threat.

He exhales sharply and forces himself to let go, pulling his arms around himself instead. It’ll get better--the storm will fade, the sun will rise, and he’ll come back to himself. He’ll be able to tamp down the worry because when he is here, he is home.

Sometimes that realization takes a few days to make itself known.

The bite of his nails on the back of his arm distracts him from the way the raindrops sound like a thousand tiny feet pattering across the floor. _It’s only rain on shingles,_ he thinks. _There’s no one coming for you here._

His senbon on the cutting board flashes in the split-second glow of lightning before another tremor rocks him to the bone, and he curses when he pricks his finger fumbling for it. Metal and salt burst on his tongue as he takes hold of the needle and his thumb all at once, swiping his tongue across the rough pad of it to determine if he actually needs a bandage this time.

“Nah,” he mutters. The kitchen lights again, illuminating his jacket carelessly tossed on the floor, but he can’t quite manage to bend down and pick it up. He should really be going, anyway. There’s no sense in being here if he’s not even courageous enough to face his own shadow.

He can only imagine what havoc another person could wreak upon him.

It was stupid, anyway, coming here fresh off of a long mission. He knows better. _Everyone_ knows better, why did he think this could be different? And she’s probably forgotten she let him know where the spare key is--it was a long several months ago, she was _drunk,_ Genma, why would she remember--

He’s whipping around and spitting the senbon before he even knows why, the dull _thunk_ of it embedding itself into the wall drowned out by a yelp from the one person he’s vowed never to hurt.

“Genma?” Sakura says shakily. And then, to Genma’s chagrin, “I’m going to move to turn on the light. It’s just me, okay?” Light floods the kitchen with a click, both blinking owlishly at the sudden change in environment. “Okay, I’m not mad, I promise--” She extends a trembling hand, palm up and fingers beckoning him as she takes a step forward. “But, uh, what exactly are you doing in my kitchen?”

“Nothing,” he whispers.

“Try again,” Sakura says, nothing but a hint of fond exasperation to show he’s caused a disturbance. “You’re safe here, you know that, right? I’m safe.” Her fingers brush against his forearm, but she comes no closer. The foot and a half between them may as well be miles, she feels so far away, and without thinking, he steps forward to wrap his arms around her shoulders.

“That’s going to leave a mark.” He stares sightlessly toward the wall as he swallows. “I can come fix it in the morning.”

“Gen,” she chides softly. “Why are you breaking into my apartment so late?” Her hands splay over his shoulder blades and their warmth _burns_ as it pierces through his still-damp undershirt. “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he breathes. His chest twists when she clings tighter, as though he’s something precious, and he backs away. “I won’t. I wouldn’t, I--” He stops, clamps his mouth shut and looks at the floor. “I’m okay. I’m not hurt, and everything went smoothly, and I’m okay. I completed the mission.”

Sakura makes a soft noise of understanding. “Have you stopped by the hospital yet?”

“I only got in an hour ago.”

“Well, it’s a good thing you stopped here, then.” Sakura steps forward once again and her eyes look so much like his mark’s that he needs to look away, skirt around her before she can feel his racing pulse. “Genma, please. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” he says again, all too quickly. He shakes his head. “Nothing. Everything, but--I, uh--” He swallows around the panic in his throat, and then winces when a thin, reedy whine escapes him. “I swear I’m better than this, I promise. I just--you just--home,” he says, jerking his thumb toward the door. “I’ve got to get home.”

“Shiranui Genma, _stop.”_ Sakura’s voice brooks no argument, and some hidden switch flips in Genma’s mind at the tone. 

He stops immediately.

“I’m not here to force it out of you,” she says, quieter, “but why did you come here in the middle of the night? Please.”

“I don’t know.”

“There’s not a reason you nearly took my ear off three seconds after I woke up to pee?”

Genma presses his palms to his eyes until he sees colors, because _anything_ is preferable to the way she’s looking at him like he’s three years old with his hand caught in the cookie jar again. “I didn’t feel good,” he manages. That much, at least, is true--he very rarely does after missions, but this is the first time he’s been brave enough to bother her about it.

“And you thought being here would help?”

“Would you hate me if I said yes?” He hates the way his voice cracks on the _yes,_ thinks that if anything’s a reason for her to hate him, that’s it. He can’t even speak without breaking down. “You don’t need to answer.”

There’s a _long_ pause. A very long pause, which Genma takes to consider his actions over the past minute and a half until he’s determined that yes, yes she should hate him for coming to expect some sort of comfort.

“What the _hell_ are you talking about?” Sakura asks, interrupting his mental gymnastics. “What the _fuck,_ Genma? I-- _hate you?”_

He nods.

“For what?”

“Because you like strong people, and I’m not even strong enough to go home to an empty apartment this time,” he says. 

“Genma,” she says, and the word is a prayer and blessing all at once as she comes forward to tug at his wrists. “Genma, I would _never_ hate you for that,” she whispers, standing on her tiptoes to rest her forehead against his. “You are _always_ welcome to come to me if things aren’t all right, do you hear me? I mean, how many times have you seen me cry over the years?”

Genma lets out a half-hearted huff. “Enough.”

“And have I ever gotten mad at you because you were upset about a mission?”

“No.” He leans in closer, turns his hands in hers to run his knuckles along the line of her jaw. “But I--”

“No buts,” she says. “You come to me if it’s too much.”

“You told me where your key was,” he says.

“What?”

“I didn’t break in.” Genma’s cheeks heat under the brush of her thumbs, and he shuts his eyes as he breathes deeply. “You told me where your key was. I let myself in, didn’t break in.”

“Ah,” Sakura says. Genma can feel the smile tugging at her lips. “Will you stay, now that you’re here?”

“If you want me to.”

“Of course I want you to,” she murmurs, a split second before her lips glance over his. “Stay the night with me, Genma. Let me in. Let me help.”


End file.
